Stand in the Rain
by MoonstoneRain
Summary: Bruce wants to hide. Thor wants him to stop. And Hulk wants to play matchmaker. [Rated T for language of the f-word variety]


**A/N: So after a long, long, long break from fanfic and practically abandoning the first fanfic I ever posted, I'm back. This is a little oneshot meant to bust up my writer's block on my other story. Hope you like it :)**

**Fair warning: cursing and lots of it. Apparently in Moonstone-mind, Bruce Banner has a bit of a mouth.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. I just like to take them and put them into ridiculously fluffy, melodramatic-romantic situations. Oh, and make them kiss each other. That too.**

_~Bruce, post-battle~_

Another day and another instance where I could have killed a ton of people, and everyone brushes this aside by saying "But think how many lives you saved!" until the reason for the endangerment threatens to make a second appearance.

It's no different from the other times. What happened is pretty damn simple: we were in danger. Malfunctioning robots—malfunctioning _evil_ robots, no less—were surrounding us and shooting off parts and trying to shoot us with sketchy laser guns. Well, trying to shoot _them_ with sketchy laser guns; I was staying out of sight, as I'd been instructed to do "unless things look really, totally hopeless," because I was "our secret weapon; we need them to underestimate us, we need them to think we don't have our greatest asset."

But then someone got lit on fire. And I freaked out. And when I freak out, no one wants to be within a hundred miles of me.

Luckily I only crushed the robots. Even luckier still, I only reduced to dust the bones of the ones controlling said robots.

Afterward Steve spent a good half hour telling me, in detail, that I "interfered" too soon. Steve is a good guy and I know he meant well, I know it was a post-battle critique like he'd give any other teammate, and I know he is genuinely trying to help when he does things like that. But this time his criticism hit just a little too close to home.

_Don't take this the wrong way, but you can be a loose cannon, and unless you know exactly what you're supposed to be hitting, things can go downhill really quickly. I've talked to you about this, Dr. Banner. You know exactly what I mean. I don't really need to go into more detail, do I? Good. Just—be more careful next time, and I'd appreciate it if you could at least try to follow the plan._

Message received loud and clear. I'm the "last, worst, most dangerous" team member. I am an asset. I am a weapon.

I don't feel like being in a roomful of people who think of me as an assault weapon, minus maybe one or two who are too weird to share that view, tonight. I've escaped to the roof of Tony's ostentatious tower, but now, my luck being what it is, it's starting to rain. And really I don't care, because this just feels much better. This whole being-alone thing, well, I'm used to it by now and I prefer it, actually, because God knows friends are on the list of Things Bruce Does Not Deserve To Have.

I'm protective of not only my secrets, but of the people closest to me. Here's the problem with that: the more attached I get to someone, usually the more attached the Other Guy gets. This is why as bad as it is for me to have friends, it's even worse for me to fall in love, because when I do, I tend to overreact (to put it mildly) when someone else tries to hurt them. I can't stand to see others in danger, but I particularly can't stand to see my best friends in danger, especially the lethal kind that they're in every fucking day of their lives.

And hey. I think I have the right to be a little concerned about that. If I try to kill myself, or if someone else tries to kill me, I'm damn near immune. But if any of them are in the line of fire, and they get hit, the possibility of losing them becomes very, very real. And there is a huge, glaring issue with this, because if I witness it, and I, as myself, am powerless to stop, it, a certain muscular green someone decides that he has to step in.

So when I saw the person I will admit (but only to myself, mind you) to being unreasonably in love with get struck by a fireball…well…you can imagine the results.

I am volatile. I am a monster. A beast. A creature that must be closely monitored for fear of brutal, deadly escape. I don't deserve someone like—well. Someone like the person I rescued today. And I sure as hell didn't have the right to fuss over him the way I did afterwards. The poor bastard wasn't even injured. I insisted on looking him over anyway. Couldn't run the risk of an internal injury, could we?

_You idiot. He can take care of himself, and you, as you well know, are fucking useless to him._

It doesn't matter, because it's never going to happen. Because much like Betty, he deserves someone who is everything I'm not.

Someone who doesn't have what Tony Stark defines as "breathtaking anger management issues," for a start.

I look over the edge of the railing and idly consider jumping. I know better though—the other guy would be out before I was halfway down. Besides, this isn't even the worst I've ever felt. _Yes, well, the one time you felt that way, you ended up with a gun in your mouth that the other guy was only too happy to chew up and spit out. Anything less than that is just child's play, isn't it?_

I shiver. The rain is falling harder and I'm starting to get cold. A thin t-shirt under a slightly-heavier button-down doesn't provide much protection from the elements. I should have put on a jacket. I didn't. I fucked up. Story of my life.

I hear the footsteps as I stare into the streets below. The door opens, someone comes out and walks across the roof towards me. I'm expecting a tentative "Bruce?" or "Dr. Banner?" I don't get it, though.

Instead, a gentle arm slides around my shoulders. A muscular chest is suddenly within my peripheral vision. I look up.

Thor.

He says nothing. The look in my eyes seems to be enough. I don't think I've felt this much self-hatred in a while; usually the team (mainly Tony and Thor) try their damnedest to diminish that to the bare minimum. But even their efforts fail after a while, tonight being a prime example. Whenever the other guy turns up, I retreat back into myself, the illusion of being a happy, functioning member of the team thoroughly destroyed. The team (or Tony and Thor) redouble their efforts, I feel better, then _he_ turns up again. It's a fucking vicious cycle. But when something like this happens…

_I am not suicidal. Not this time._

_This time I just wish I were someone else._

It's been raining just long enough and just hard enough to get me wet, but not thoroughly drenched—but the white collared shirt is probably see-through at this point. I look down. Yep. See-through, just enough to show that I have no muscle to speak of and that my chest is just barely darker than the shirt. Thor, meanwhile, looks flawless as he always does. I've seen him go through battles that would rip lesser men to pieces and come out looking like he's just stepped off the set of an action movie. He can stand in the rain and look like the star of a music video while I rock the drowned-rat look.

Great. Now I'm self-conscious about the way I look, like a fucking preteen girl, to go along with the fact that I hate myself for my actions earlier.

_Score ten for the gods that are surely laughing at me right now._

But _this_ god isn't laughing at me. Instead his arms gently close around me. I tense for a moment—the only ones who ever hug me are him and Tony, and it's not like that happens at regular and frequent intervals—but after a moment my body relaxes against his as the other guy recognizes him as a friend. I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest. His hand comes up to rub my back in slow, soothing circles, and I feel my muscles turn to jelly. God, it feels amazing. Fuck meditation, I should just have Thor do this every time I start to transform. I can't remember the last time I was this relaxed.

Oh wait, yes, I can: it was the last time the other guy came out to fuck shit up.

Why he always tries to comfort me, I'll never understand. I can punch him across the room and he'll come and find me afterwards to make sure I don't feel terrible about it, and of course I always do, and of course he always does this and tells me, over and over, that he would never abandon a "fellow warrior" because of "such an insignificant mistake." And I don't cry, I never cry, but I often feel like I should.

This is why I fell in love with him. Because no matter what I do, he never walks away. I could literally throw him off the edge of a cliff and he would still come back, still hold me like this, still tell me it's okay, still tell me I'm not a bad person, still call me his friend. _Friend._ This is where what's left of my heart always breaks, because even if he does feel the same way (and on occasion, I have allowed myself to hope that he does), he can't know. Ever. As my friend he gets his fair share of danger; if we were lovers—

_No. Don't go there._

We stand in silence for a while. Finally he says softly, "It doesn't hurt me. You are aware of that."

I manage to choke out a laugh. "Afterwards it doesn't, yeah. But you can't tell me you didn't feel a thing when I hurled you through the side of a building." I pause. "Or when I almost drowned you in the pond."

Thor laughs gently at that. "I was on fire. The Green Man"—his nickname for the other guy—"was frightened for me. I am grateful; I would not have noticed the flames until it was too late."

"You're practically immortal," I remind him bitterly. "That fire wouldn't have done much more than annoy you."

"True, but I would prefer not to go through eternity with permanent burn scars covering my body." Thor's hand reaches up to caress my hair. I close my eyes and wish, for the thousandth time, that I could tell him. Anyone else he chose to hold like this could tell him. I can't. And I hate it.

I wrench myself from his grip. "But the scars from being hurled through a fucking building—those, you're okay with?"

Thor smiles gently. "They're already nearly gone."

Thank God. "And Steve?"

"No longer angry with either of us."

"I doubt that."

Thor sighs. "Well…he's still angry with me," he admits. "He thinks I did the wrong thing by spiriting you away once you were yourself again." His eyes suddenly turn fierce, as though he's arguing his case with Steve again instead of explaining himself to me. "But what was I supposed to do, I ask? Let you lie there, exposed, in your human form, with enemies still poised to attack you while you were vulnerable?"

I smile a little. "Well, apparently, that's exactly what Steve would have you do."

"He says I left the battle too early. Left the others too soon. But I assure you I did return."

"I think…" I sigh and look over the railing again. "I think he wishes I could control the other guy the way you control Mjolnir."

"Well, that is clearly impossible," Thor says very seriously. He isn't mocking me, he's being completely honest. And I love that about him.

God, I love _everything_ about him. As I look at him now, I can't help but—God help me—fall for him just a little more; the way he's looking at me is enough to send chills down my spine. No pity, no anger, no revulsion. Pure, unreserved affection. Concern, the kind of concern you only feel for a very dear friend. No fear. He is not afraid I will hurt him. If I were to lash out at him right now, he would not back away for fear my alter-ego would make an appearance.

_Damn it, Thor. Stop making me want you. Stop making me love you, you asshole._

I turn my face from his. I can't look at him like this. I can't let myself feel this—and if I can't prevent that, I can at least not let him see it.

He's not having it, though. He crosses towards me in one long, bounding step and tilts my face towards his. His hand is soft, no calluses, no scars, nothing but warm, smooth skin. My eyes meet his. A drop of rain falls from a strand of loose hair, just over his left eye. The raindrop rolls down his skin, and I stand, mesmerized by the sight. Jesus Christ, he is fucking beautiful.

"You don't have to control him the way the Captain wishes you to," he says softly, but his voice is firm. "You do not know what the Green Man said to me today…but I assure you, had the Captain heard it, he would have called him tame."

The spell breaks and I almost laugh. "The other guy? Tame? Now this I've got to hear."

Thor smiles, and I don't know if I entirely like that smile—it makes my stomach twist in that lovely way that just screams _good God I'm so in love with you I'm high_, but at the same time…it's too knowing. Too certain. Thor knows something I don't and I don't think I like that.

"Well, after I caught fire…"

0o0o0o0

_~Thor, four hours earlier~_

As the battle rages around me I become aware of blinding heat, far too close to me. Before I can register where it is coming from, a green blur bears down on me, picks me up by the front of my armor, and makes a run for it, taking huge, bounding steps that shake the earth. I clasp onto his hand for dear life, but the determined look on his face tells me I'm not about to be dropped…at least not until we reach his destination: a nearby pond.

I'm dunked furiously under the water and dragged back out, then unceremoniously dropped on the ground. I cough, sputter and make a valiant effort to clear the water from my lungs. "What was that, Green Man?" I demand, unsure whether to be offended or amused. (It wouldn't be the first time he did something like this in a battle; sometimes I really think he does this kind of thing just for his own enjoyment. Which suits me fine; I'd rather he play with me than someone he could accidentally harm.)

He gives me a look that quite clearly reads _you utter fool_. "Stupid god on fire," he grunts.

Oh. It takes barely a second to understand. One of the evil metal men must have caught me on fire. I stand and bow to my rescuer. "Thank you, most valiant warrior," I say formally, as I would to any of my fellow soldiers on Asgard. "I would have been severely harmed if not for you."

His face turns even more serious, if possible. "Banner not like god hurt," he explains. "Banner sad when god hurt. Hulk save god."

_Oh! Banner, you fool, you'd better listen well when I explain this later…_ I smile at the Hulk. "I am sure he will be most grateful to you, Green Man," I tell him. "I will tell him of this later."

Hulk shakes his head sadly. "Banner hate Hulk."

_Poor thing…_ I reach out and pat his arm sympathetically. "He is merely frightened of you," I tell him. "He will see reason when I tell him of your noble acts today."

That seems to cheer him up a bit. He smiles, reaches down, and pokes me with a giant finger. "God all wet," he says helpfully, and I can't help but laugh.

"Yes, I am, thanks to you."

He laughs too, smiling even broader now. "God know secret?"

I know we're wasting time and that Captain Rogers will not be pleased with me for this. But I also know there is little reasoning with the Hulk. If he wants to tell me secrets, then confound it he'll tell me all the secrets he knows. If he wants to throw me into the pond, he'll do that too. If he wants to pick me up and run with me like a Midgardian football, who can stop him?

"What secret do you wish to tell me?" I sit down on one of the rocks, knowing I might well be here for a while.

Hulk plunks down in front of me, like a child sitting before his tutor. "Banner has dreams. Kiss god."

My heart nearly stops. I've suspected this for months. The Hulk has just confirmed it. "Well. I certainly didn't know that before now," I say, trying to keep my tone light. "But I'll take it into consideration. And, speaking of secrets, Green Man…I believe this conversation ought to remain one." Hulk nods in agreement, and I am struck anew with how well he understands me, despite my sentences being far more complicated than his. Anyone who says this creature is unintelligent has clearly never attempted to speak with him.

I stand up. "Good man. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I believe we should return to the battle; our companions have need of us. Shall we go?"

Without replying, he picks me up in a giant fist and bounds back towards the fight. I point to a tall building, where several metal men are trying to fight their way through the bricks, and ask Hulk to put me there so I can get them before they reach the civilians that Captain Rogers is trying to evacuate. "Here, please, Green Man."

He gets a bit overenthusiastic—shoves me clean through the side of the building actually—but the overall mission is accomplished. And later on when one of his celebratory fist-pounds sends me flying straight through the wall of the same building…well, I won't mention it later if he won't. After all, he _is_ just trying to help.

And later on I repay Dr. Banner, once he's back in his human form, for rescuing me by removing him from the line of fire while he's unable to protect himself. Captain Rogers is quite displeased with me for this. I find it difficult to care about his opinion on this matter. I think it far more despicable to leave a helpless man unattended than briefly "abandon" my teammates, all of whom are more than capable of defending themselves.

And then later on, when he needs to know, I tell Dr. Banner everything that happened…except for the secret that his Green Man told me.

That just doesn't seem prudent. Not yet.

0o0o0o0

_~Bruce, present~_

I'm not sure what to think. On the one hand, this proves a theory that Tony's been dying to test out for months: not only does the other guy recognize my friends, but he's more than aware of how I feel about them. On the other hand, this could be dangerous; he could tell everyone precisely what I think of them, good and bad. Right now, I'm just thankful he didn't tell Thor _why_ I hate it when he's hurt.

"So…he likes you, I guess," I say, and Thor practically beams. "Here's the thing, though. However you slice it, he half-drowned you and shoved you through the building…it doesn't matter that he was trying to save you, or trying to be helpful. He still almost killed you."

Thor shakes his head. "I can handle his attention."

"You can because you're practically immortal," I remind him. "Others can't. What if he tried to do something like that to Tony, or God forbid Natasha?" Tony, I reason, at least has the suit to protect him.

"Bruce"—his voice is so gentle, and I freeze; this is the first time he's ever used my first name—"I don't think you have to worry about that."

"Why not?" I demand. The knowing look is back. Oh God. Now I'm actually scared.

_He knows. Damn it all to hell, he knows._

"He is…unusually protective of me when we're in battle." Like I didn't already know that, thank you Prince Obvious of Asgard. "And I'm beginning to understand why."

My heart is in my throat. _Shit shit shit shit shit. He knows. Shit. Shit…I'm screwed. He's screwed. We're both screwed._

A gentle hand runs through my hair. I can't look at him, fuck, I can't bear to look at him. He makes me. He tilts my face upward once again, and he's so _close_, Jesus Christ, he is so fucking close. "You know why, too," he says softly, and runs one fingertip down my cheek, and the motion is so sweet, so _tender_, that I forget how to breathe.

"I can't do this," I blurt out, and then—forget it, the word-vomit pours out in buckets. "I can't, don't you understand I can't? We—you—I—you're not—I can't let you, okay? You're too important, do you get that? If I hurt you I will fucking kill myself, I know I said it was impossible but damn it Thor, I will find a way if the other bastard leaves so much as a fucking scratch on you. I won't, I _can't_, okay? Jesus, this is so wrong. Now you'll never leave it alone and someday we both know I'll give in because I'm just that fucking _stupid_, and one of these days you'll get thrown into a helicopter propeller or something and I'll be the idiot who did it and—and fucking hell, I shouldn't have told you any of this, I—"

He finally takes pity on me and silences me. His thick finger gently rests over my lips, and his voice drops another octave (holy shit, I didn't even know that was possible) as he tells me, "I already knew, Bruce. I have known for some time now."

One strong arm laces around my waist, and I find my body pulled even closer towards his. I can feel his heartbeat, and then my own heart begins to pick up speed and _oh shit if it gets past 200 we're both fucked I have to stop him now_ but I can't, I can't stop him, a huge, _huge_ part of me doesn't _want_ to stop him. His other hand cups the side of my face and it's now that I realize the rain has gotten harder. It's getting in my eyes. Obscuring my view of his beautiful face. I open my mouth to say that just won't do, I need to be able to see him properly, but he cuts me off, he probably thinks I'm about to protest again.

_I should. But like I said…I'm an idiot. I won't._

"I did not say anything, because I was certain you would tell me when you were ready for me to know. But you never did…and I must admit I've grown rather impatient." His forehead rests against mine. "I wish you had told me. Finding out from your Green Man was quite an interesting experience though, I'll admit."

"Oh no," I whisper, and a shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the cold. "He—he _told_—?"

"I forgot to mention that?" His eyes are twinkling now. Damn it, he knows the effect he has on me and—well, forget it. I might as well hang a sign around my neck now._ Bruce Banner, official property of Prince Thor of Asgard._ He knows by now—he has to—that he can do anything he damn well pleases with me.

"You don't understand"—I make one last futile attempt to break out of his warm embrace—"you don't know what kind of danger you're putting yourself in."

"I think I do." Thor smiles a little. He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. "I think I know precisely what I am getting myself into." His lips find my cheek. His kisses are just like every other touch; warm, protective, firm but oh-so-gentle. "I think I can handle your other half better than anyone else on our team. I also think you should be aware that you are unbelievably intelligent, that you have an internal strength that would arouse the jealousy of the most disciplined Asgardian, and that you have the most selfless, loving heart of anyone I've ever met."

"And I think you're confusing me with Steve," I say, embarrassed to find myself breathless as he kisses the other cheek.

"No. I am not." His forehead leans against mine again, and he stares into my eyes with an intensity that seems to melt my internal organs. "I see what you do not. You are smart, you are strong, you are handsome. Anyone who says differently will deal with me…even if that someone is you."

I blush furiously. "You suck," I mutter, because apparently, I've been reduced to a fourteen-year-old version of Tony Stark.

Thor smiles. "I have heard that Midgardian expression. But fortunately for you, I am well aware that you don't mean it." He presses a light kiss to the tip of my nose. I blush fiercely once again. "You, Bruce Banner, are a man that anyone would be lucky to have by their side. You are unaware of this, obviously…but, on occasion, that merely adds to your charms."

_You don't know you're beautiful…and that's what makes you beautiful._

I almost laugh when the song that Tony forced me to listen to briefly flits through my mind. But the time for laughing is long past. I'm reduced to utter stupidity by this breathtaking man and, really, I think he's enjoying this. He's smiling like the cat that ate the canary and all I can think is_ holy shit, I can't believe he actually finds me attractive_.

I open my mouth to tell him this. But what actually comes out is, "You've kissed me everywhere but on the mouth."

_Oh, very well done, Banner. Very scientific observation, that._

Thor doesn't point out my stupidity. He just smiles. "I will give you a proper courting kiss when you are ready," he promises.

_Aaaaand I think my heart just exploded._

"I'm ready," I hear myself whisper.

He doesn't question this, just takes me at my word, and as his mouth finds mine and I first tense and then give in, the sky opens up and pours on us like a monsoon. My heart takes off like a helicopter propeller and I jerk away, gasping. "Wait, I can't—"

Thor won't let me pull away from him. "Shh, it's all right," he says soothingly. "You are safe. He won't come."

"You don't know th—" Before I can finish my protest, Thor shuts me up with another kiss. His fingers thread through my dripping wet hair and his hand is wide enough to support the back of my head perfectly, not giving me the option to kill the moment again. When he's had enough he releases me, and I stand there, helpless in his arms, only able to stare at him. He smiles again, very encouragingly, and says softly, "See? You're all right. He isn't here. It's just you and I. You are safe, Bruce." He kisses me again, very briefly. "You are safe, and you are loved."

I can't think of anything to say to that other than, "Kiss me again?" and Thor readily complies, and this time I don't fight it, I just _melt_, melt into his arms and give myself over to the unrestrained bliss threatening to take control of me.

_I never knew vulnerability could feel so good._

We continue in this vein for some time, only pausing long enough for him to say, in the most raw, unrestrained voice I've ever heard him use (and that's saying something, Thor is not the best at hiding his emotions), "Bruce…I love you…so very much," and covering my mouth with his before I have the chance to reply. But that's okay. We both know he already knows I feel the same.

It's only when the roof is close to flooding that we are interrupted. "HEY IDIOTS!" Tony practically roars from the doorway. "GET BACK IN HERE BEFORE YOU'RE ELECTROCUTED!"

We break apart at his first bellow. I shrink into Thor's arms, afraid of being caught, and he holds me even more securely. "It's just the Man of Iron," he whispers.

I roll my eyes. "He would be the one to catch us."

"What does he mean 'electrocuted?'"

"He thinks it'll start to thunder and lightning, I guess."

Thor cocks his head. "Does he not realize I can control the lightning?" I shrug, and Thor sighs. He raises his voice to answer Tony. "We'll be in soon," he promises.

"NOW! I DON'T WANT MY TEAMMATES TURNED INTO KENTUCKY FRIED AVENGER! MOVE IT!"

Thor looks at me, confused at the phrase "Kentucky fried Avenger," and I shake my head. "It's Tony. Don't ask."

As always he gives it up. "All right. But we'd better comply. He sounds very serious."

I snort at that. "Words never before spoken concerning Tony Stark."

Thor walks me inside, one arm around my waist. Tony notices this and nods approvingly. "About fucking time," he says. "Hey, were you two mugging down out there?"

My face flames red once again, but Thor cocks his head like a puppy. "Were we _what_?"

"Snogging. Locking lips. Getting your mack on. Whatever the hell you call it on Asgard."

I finally burst in, just to shut him up. "Yes, Tony, we were kissing. Happy now?"

He holds up his hands defensively. "Whoa, Jolly Green Giant, pull back. I was just asking."

Jolly Green Giant? I shake my head; I _know_ Tony can do better than that. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah, actually." He looks at Thor. "What the hell did you say to get him to loosen up? Seriously, I need to know."

Thor just gives him that knowing smile—the one that just sets me on edge, but will absolutely _kill_ a guy like Tony—and says, "That is between me and him, Man of Iron."

And with that he leads me away, leaving a sputtering, pouting, thoroughly annoyed Tony behind.

**A/N: So this is my first time writing Avengers fic in almost a year. Hope it didn't suck. ;)**

**My other story WILL be updated from here on out. May have to revise what I already posted first, but either way it's gonna be finished, dammit.**


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